


Civil Blood

by ardett



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Angst, Anxiety, Crushes, Hurt/Comfort, Insecurity, M/M, Remixed, Suicidal Thoughts, vldfanficremix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-14 16:33:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11787081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardett/pseuds/ardett
Summary: Keith has a crush, Lance is a mess, and the teenage mind has always been tumultuous.





	Civil Blood

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [You Don't Have to Pretend](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9445748) by [pidgeotto_gunderson](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pidgeotto_gunderson/pseuds/pidgeotto_gunderson). 



> This is apart of the [VLD Fanfiction Remix](https://vldfanficremix2017.tumblr.com/)! I was so excited to take part in this event and it has been a super fun experience. I would certainly recommend reading the original version before this, since the dialogue was taken directly from the remixed fic and it has all that wonderful langst ;)
> 
> And to pidgeotto_gunderson, I hope I did your fic justice and that you enjoy this remix :)

“I don’t know why Blue chose me because I sure wouldn’t have, and I wonder sometimes if I should just leave or just die so-” Everything else turns to static in Keith’s head. The word rings in his head with all the force of a resonating gong. Die, die,  _ die,  _ does Lance want to die?

(It would make sense. It would all make sense. The dead eyes and the dark circles underneath. The tugged up hood and the face hidden in pools of shadow. The trembling hands and the late night footsteps that pace outside his door. The way Lance spoke, responses sometimes regulated to singular, emotionless utterances.)

But it doesn’t make sense, not at all, because how can Lance want to die, how can Lance feel worthless, when Keith feels as if his world revolves around Lance’s spindly fingers and blue blue eyes. 

It’s an innocent thing. It’s a crush. He knows this. It isn’t love at first sight, it isn’t the tragic love story of Romeo and Juliet, but it’s the kind of budding  _ I like like you _ that means Keith has been staring at Lance’s lips and has been daydreaming about kissing the other boy and has been watching blue eyes. It means he’s been thinking about all the little things he likes about Lance and how Lance makes him smile and how Lance makes his body feel warm. Keith is wrapped up in the stages of adoration, or so Shiro has told him, so it’s hard to even  _ conceive _ that Lance might want to… end that.

End himself.

“Lance, wait, just-” Keith tightens his hold on Lance’s wrist to assure himself of its actuality, to feel the flex of tendons and the thrum of veins pumping blood, to remind himself of Lance as a real,  _ living _ human being. Keith takes a deep breath (so he knows he himself is real as well). “I- just. You can keep going, if you want, but just answer me one thing, right here, right now.”

He feels muscles go limp beneath his fingertips, like someone who has given up. Lance gives a small sniff, nose wrinkling as he tries to contain his sobs and hiccups, and Keith’s heart breaks.

“What?” Lance asks listlessly.

“Are you actually thinking about dying? Like really, seriously thinking about it?” The word  _ dying _ slides over his tongue, insidious and deadly. It chokes him with its bitterness.

Lance doesn’t say anything but Keith can see as the emotions are stripped from his eyes.

Then, Lance just kind of… shrugs. Like it’s nothing. His voice comes out too light as he says, “Everyone thinks about death, Keith. It’s a fact of life.”

Keith doesn’t know if Lance sees the flicker of fear that streaks across his face. Something squeezes in his chest and a wave of hopelessness overwhelms him. 

Every one of them has thought about death, yes, because it’s their lives on the line when they step into the lions, but this is something more. He has been a regular teenager before, the one who goes to class and who sits at a table during lunch. And he has seen all that every teenager sees.

Kids with bruises and bloody knuckles, kids with old scars lining their forearms, kids whose ribs show through their shirts and who are cold too often, kids with too many pills and kids without enough. Kids who say goodbye and I’m sorry in a panic as they leave school, and end up off a bridge that night.

He has seen it from afar. He has seen it in his friends. He has seen it in himself.

All the anger drains out of Keith. Lethargy seeps into his limbs,  _ he’s so tired,  _ and he leans into Lance a little bit more. “That wasn’t the question, Lance,” he breathes.

“Look, Keith-”  _ Stop, stop, stop. _

“Lance. Please. You don’t have to pretend with me, okay?” More than anything, Keith wants to be worthy of this single, solitary thing. To be someone Lance doesn’t have to pretend with. 

He has this crush, yes, but being Lance’s friend, his rock, his anchor, would be enough. He wants to hold Lance, yes, but he can hold him like this, as a soft and steady force, a message of support, if not love right now.

He starts to rearrange his hand on Lance’s and in the moment his grip slackens on the other’s skin, Lance blurts out, “Yes.”

Keith blinks, forgetting his question, before it all comes back to him. His teeth dig into his lip and automatically, he slots his fingers between Lance’s, properly holding his hand now.

“I’m sorry I never said anything.” Guilt mixed with anger rises up in him, all directed at himself. 

He aches with the need to  _ fix  _ this, but he doesn’t know how. He has never been good with interactions like this and his hands are prone to making things shatter.

“You knew?”

Keith smiles at that, though it’s something rueful. “I suspected. I’ve been there. I know the look.” He grimaces at that and the memories it dredges up. 

He knows,  _ he knows _ that is part of the reason he didn’t give Lance the second thought he needed. Considering what Lance might be going through, thinking about the mess of his emotions when Shiro disappeared from the Kerberos mission, could be… painful. He didn’t want to relive that again, so he hadn’t wanted to think about Lance living through it now. 

He won’t make that mistake again.

Lance draws him back to the conversation with a strangled laugh. “There’s a look now?”

“Yep. Tired with a capital ‘T’,” Keith tries to joke as he attempts to coax a smile, a real smile, back onto Lance’s face.

Lance does laugh again but it’s the sound of someone who has lost control. He tilts into Keith, gripping at his sleeve and hiding his eyes. And Keith thinks that just this once, maybe his hands will hold and heal something.

“I can help if you want.” His offer floats in the silent air, unclaimed. A kernel of doubt seeds its way into Keith’s chest.

Their eyes meet and Keith wonders if Lance can see the way his eyes soften. Keith has always been a teenage boy wrought with too strong emotions but he thinks that Lance seems to calm them, calm him.

“Thank you,” Lance murmurs.

Keith’s heart swells and he makes an unsaid promise to himself that Lance’s faith will not be misplaced.

 

Help is in the small things. Offering a shoulder to lean on, tracing the nail beds of anxious fingers, being someone to hide behind when the tears start to come. It’s small bits of praise and asking if he’s okay, really okay, and noticing when eyes are tired and reactions are slow and words are slipping together. It’s sitting in silence between the difficult pauses and smiling when he’s excited. It’s a soft kiss to the hand, the cheek, the lips. Keith holds his breathe and hopes that it is enough.

 

(Lance still feels anxiety like splinters between his ribs, tiny slivers that he knows are there but he can’t see, that shouldn’t be significant but cause him pain all the same. Sometimes it’s just a twinge of discomfort. Sometimes it’s a crushing wave that drives him to his knees, hands braced over his head and fingers tangled in his hair.

It is almost indescribable, the urge to shred his own skin and the want to see his hands stained scarlet with his own blood.

But when he shakes in small corners, Keith finds him. When he hides his dark and sleepless eyes, Keith looks for him. When he is stuck in the gray and empty places between reality and what keeps him sane, Keith is there with him.

And for now, those happy moments of jokes and gentle smiles and nervous touches are enough.)


End file.
